


fill us with the sun

by ephemeralgrime



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Temperature Play, consensual beard burn for fun & profit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 11:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralgrime/pseuds/ephemeralgrime
Summary: Alpha hasn't shaved in days.
Relationships: Fire Ghoul | Alpha Ghoul/Omega | Quintessence Ghoul
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	fill us with the sun

It's a common misconception that a ghoul’s hair doesn't grow. 

Omega thinks that probably someone got the notes mixed up with vampires, because he's been deliberately invited into rooms more times than he can count. And he gets it, because there's not exactly a manual on this kind of thing, but not all beings like him — like _them_ — are the same. 

But it grows. He’s not dead, after all. The ghouls are either somewhere between or far past the usual markers of life and death. Omega keeps his hair short, like a lot of the ghouls do. It's easier to tuck behind a mask that way without worrying about having to coil or plait it. He never had much of a beard, but he shaves regularly now. Something about the ritual of the rasping blade against his jaw every morning and the smooth planes of skin that appear underneath makes him feel… sanded down. Razed, at attention. Clean.

But Alpha hasn't shaved in days.

In fact, he hasn't trimmed his hair recently either. Both of these facts, while moderately noteworthy on their own, are suddenly very interesting to Omega as Alpha settles in between his legs.

Their masks are sitting neatly on the table nearby, faces angled away like turned-down photographs. Superstition, maybe. Omega can see them over Alpha's shoulder, shining and out of focus.

Alpha presses a kiss to Omega’s bare stomach, right at the slight swell of it, sweet and soft. But Omega can already feel the grit of his stubble, silvery and abrasive where it peppers the skin of his face. 

“Ready?” Alpha asks. Omega nods and watches him lower his head back down and close his eyes.

The air around him stirs slightly, and he feels the temperature drop all at once — the sensation of stepping by a cracked window in winter. Alpha breathes in through his nose, then releases it, eyelashes fanning his closed eyes. His fingers are warm where they’re pressed to Omega’s sides. 

Omega smells woodsmoke. Candles burning. The coppery smell of fire in a forge. 

The tips of Alpha’s fingers feel like pinpricks of flame now.

He opens his eyes, and Omega swears he sees fire dancing there.

Alpha leans over and blows a breath over Omega's bare stomach, just a little one with his lips pursed in an _O,_ and it feels like steam from a furnace. Omega lets out a little _ah!_ sound, feeling the muscles of his stomach tremble, drawing away on instinct, then relaxing. He takes a steadying breath, forces his heart to slow. Already, the feeling has faded.

 _"Do it again,"_ he says, and Alpha does, but not before pressing a searing kiss to Omega's stomach, darting out his tongue to swirl at the skin there. Omega groans, shifting on the bed, just shy of squirming. All his nerves, his blood — everything in him feels like it gathers into the single stretch of skin under Alpha’s tongue. 

The next breath Alpha blows onto space he kissed almost feels cool by comparison. Almost.

Alpha skims a hand up his thigh, a trail of heat in his path. Another slides down Omega's other leg, skimming his ankle, burning hot and perfect.

Omega’s really starting to sweat now. He reaches out, smooths a hand over Alpha’s hair, traces it where it’s curling long and shimmering white over his ear. The shell of his ear is hot, but he’s not sweating at all. Fire ghouls. The novelty of it — of this, of Alpha, of letting himself be unmade — never wears off. He rubs a lock of hair between his fingers where it curls the sweetest, then tugs a little. _Again, please,_ he signals. 

Alpha can’t keep the smile off his face. Omega sees a quick flash of pointed teeth, bright and sharp, and then Alpha is leaning down again, three more molten kisses searing his stomach in quick succession. Omega feels sharpness in the last one - a bite, blunt and gentle, buoyed by the slick heat of his tongue. 

Omega jerks and groans. Every part of him goes taut, all at once. His chest is heaving now, and he knows he must be sweating into the sheets of the bed as he twists in it, trying to get closer and further away in the same motion.

Relentless, Alpha drags wet lips across the inner part of Omega's thigh, right where it's soft and sensitive, and rubs his stubbled cheek there. Omega moans at the hot scrape of it, and feels like Alpha’s smirk must be imprinted there too, among the skin already growing pink and tender. He moves to the other thigh, nuzzling it like a cat, breathing warm wetness as he moves. Pain blooms sharp and lovely in his wake.

Omega's fisted hands have become very acquainted with the sheets. His entire body feels like one big blush — or bruise, or burn. His thighs are trembling as Alpha makes a ruin of them, biting and rubbing and huffing searing hot over delicate skin. He is a struck match, paper curling in a hearth, just about to catch fire. 

He's so hard it hurts.

But Alpha is well-attuned to Omega in all ways. Just as it's about to tip over that fine point from _please more_ to _too much,_ Alpha hitches himself up higher on his forearms, easing Omega's sore thighs up and out of the way. 

Omega watches the graceful muscles of Alpha's back shift as he settles himself over where Omega wants him most. Omega thinks he might kiss him, maybe take him in his mouth — but he just leans over his groin and pants, huffing and wet and animal, right where Omega is hottest and hardest. 

His tongue lolls out, forked and wicked, and Omega can't stand it anymore. His hands reach out, fisting in Alpha’s silky hair again — long enough to grab a handful of. 

_"Please,"_ he begs, and that’s all it takes. 

For one anxious moment he worries, remembering the burn of Alpha’s lips on his stomach. But Alpha’s mouth is warm and gentle, and Omega surrenders to it. 

Alpha would never hurt him any way he didn’t want. 

After, when Omega is conjuring shimmering runes in his hand to press to the skin of his thighs, and the crosshatch of pink marks are fading, he sees Alpha eyeing him conspicuously.

"Don't like me healing it?" he asks, switching to the other leg.

“Thought you might want a reminder of me.”

"I don't need one. You’re always here." He strokes Alpha's tail with his free hand in that way he knows he likes.

“I could set your dick on fire, you know,” Alpha says, but he’s already cozying up behind Omega, wrapping his arms around him, tucking his chin in the space between his neck and his shoulder. There's the gravelly scrape of his stubble again against Omega's neck. He inhales sharply, tilting his head to give Alpha better access.

"Nihil will make you shave, you know." Omega says. "Plus you like my dick too much," but then Alpha is kissing along his neck too, and whatever else he was going to say gets lost along the way back down to the bed.

Omega thinks he would let himself burn every day if Alpha lit the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> me? writing fic after 10 years? because of a spooky skeleton band? sure, why not!
> 
> written for all the other alpha/omega ride-or-dies out there <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @ratballet!


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